


rocks into replicators

by zombified_queer



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Crapsey cinquains, Erasure poems, Free Verse, Haikus, M/M, Poetry, Seditious content, Sexual Content, Tankas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 18:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18530374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombified_queer/pseuds/zombified_queer
Summary: A collection of poems about the Dominion and the citizens of it.





	rocks into replicators

It's not important that you understand, only that you carry out my instructions precisely.

It's [----------] important you [--------], only you [--------------] precisely.

It's terribly

important

you defect

from the gardens

of our gods,

only you

love me

precisely.

* * *

things that turn

oceans of war

inward:

a ~~god~~ changeling

two vials of white

crates of cloning tech

rifling through stolen rifles

libraries of love poems

a martyr

and you

* * *

feral behaviour

the one thing they could not breed

out of all our lines

* * *

why ~~god~~

do diplomats

fuck so the whole ship can hear?

performance? aesthetics? i don't

know why

* * *

sun again today

all the days eternally nice.

will the rain ever return

to our heaven-hell planet,

our terraformed paradise?

* * *

nervous

we turn our eyes

away in privacy

gods were never telepaths

just men

* * *

down in

the cloning labs

a phantom limb twitches

caught between life and death: every

Vorta

* * *

is it possible

to cast gods out of heaven

to tear up society's foundations

to surrender this war

without

surrendering ourselves?

* * *

kurill terraformed

a home only to bipeds

and it rains again

* * *

rebels

i watched them in

back-lit back alleyways

digging through my trash for

freedom

* * *

combat grunting by

jem'hadar soldiers sounds like

laying on soft sand

* * *

lavish diplomats

content with being drugged up

pretty porcelain

but can they think? do they die?

or are they pleased with rotting?

* * *

why don't artists celebrate

jem'hadar

their lean, hard-packed muscle

erotically masculine

rough faces pressed into

thighs and shoulders

with infinite tenderness?

* * *

changelings are falsehoods

how can gods be sadistic?

they are all devils

* * *

again

diplomat sex

drugged up to their eyes just

to perform for some alien

stranger

* * *

vorta

with arms holding

each other, yet rebels

just for being madly in love-

perfect

* * *

mangroves blossom sweet

cloying like dead traitors

left in open fields

* * *

spayed like pests, we grind

fruitless in the hot nighttime

hissing for lost things

* * *

the taste of fresh roe

tingles the lips, numbs the mind

briny ketracel

mangroves in full mango bloom

dissolving, to stumps, the tongue

* * *

we, the ex-people

of the dominion

have had to tell lies to stay alive

such as we are spies

(because refugee doesn't roll nicely off the tongue)

such as we vorta have had to mutilate our ears

(to pass as a “human”)

such as we jem'hadar claim klingon or orion on the forms

(with "aesthetic adjustments")

such as karemma claim being a relation of ferengi

(but “with hooves”)

we, the ex-people

demand a single reparation,

such as the extermination of every changeling

who ever claimed to be ~~god~~

* * *

victory is life

but winning cannot bring back

men in fallow fields

* * *

the taste of vorta

sweet as spring and sunshine

worth a death sentence

tingling the tongue, the lips

painfully saccharine love

* * *

jem'hadar strolling

around the park arm-in-arm

closer than comrades

* * *

confession:

i have touched another vorta

lain down in the dark with them

tasted the flash of deep violet between their thighs

sentence: the little death

* * *

First Omet'iklan, can you vouch for the loyalty of your men?

We pledge our loyalty to the Founders from now until death.

First [----------], can you vouch [---------]?

[----------] pledge our loyalty [----------] from now until death.

first my lover whose lips i’ve traced with my own

with my rippleberry-stained fingers,

can you vouch that our love

in bed and in battle

would be pure, true,

honest, rebellious?

i swear, on my second-long life,

pledge our loyalty to you,

my simultaneous master and my servant,

bound to me in the private war

to fight our minds our passions

our faces our hearts

from now

until death.


End file.
